Fireproof
by Servatia
Summary: So how did Alastor Moody get so damaged? How did he get the spare parts? And what on Earth is in his hipflask? This is a bit darkish, more so than I used to write back then (2004). As all the HP stuff, this is ancient.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the only text where I can pinpoint when I wrote it: The first Advent Sunday 2004, which means before the release of HBP even. And it's one of the more recent HP-fics I wrote._

_This takes place after Voldemort's downfall and a rather short time after Lestrange was caught (It cannot be too long because in the Pensieve Moody still has his normal eye, like here – at least in the book). I wrote this because I have been wondering about all the stuff I'm dealing with in here for ages. So if you ever wondered where he got his eye from and what is in his hipflask, go read this (The latter became more of point of interest because of the movie, I admit it. When I read GoF I had the idea Moody might be a boozer, although JK doesn't suggest this that much. I had already forgotten that.). I choose to refer to people by their first names, the only exception is Dumbledore, just because I think it would be inappropriate for me to call him Albus. Yes, I know that's ridiculous._

_Somehow my various OCs from earlier HP-Texts (funny, I wrote all of them before DH, most of them before HBP, so in a way it's all early) found their way into this: Urania Gallows from _Beasts of Prey_, Sarah and Catherine Highpit (who used to have a different name once) from the long thing without a title that I will one day post, I guess. Also the Teneo/Solvo and the Solutio Salutis I stole from myself, more or less._

_Since this is a bit longish, I split it into two chapters. As a matter of fact, I had originally ended it at the end of the first part._

* * *

Alastor woke with a start. Someone had knocked the door downstairs, fiercely. He glanced out of the window. It was dark, the full moon shining into his bedroom. Alastor snatched his wand and ran downstairs without making a sound. Only when he stood right beside the door he spoke. 'Who is it?'

'Just me,' came the answer. Alastor recognized the voice as his colleague Urania Gallows's. With a frown he opened the door, but he pointed his wand at the witch.

'And what the hell would you be doing here at this ungodly time?'

'Look,' said Urania simply, handing him a piece of parchment.

Ϡ

_Sorry, can't tell who I am, would get me in greater trouble than my life's worth. Go to the burnt down Coldingham Monastery as fast as you can._

Ϡ

'We tried to find out who it is, but we couldn't,' said Urania. 'Might be worth the risk, though. Dumbledore will follow a little later, he has to finish something before, he said.' Alastor nodded. He tapped the letter with his forefinger.

'I know that one. He's an idiot, but he's on our side.'

'Who is he?' Alastor snorted.

'Sorry, but if I tell you that, you'll go and arrest him for sending an anonymous letter. Can't have that.' The days in which he'd had to account for his reasons to Urania Gallows were long over. His training had ended longer ago than he wished to be reminded of. Apart from that, he was easily the best Auror in the office, and he was aware of that. 'Give me a minute. This is not the attire I use for searching suspicious places.'

They Apparated near the Monastery. To their amazement, there was a wooden house right beside it. 'That's not supposed to be here, is it?' asked Alastor softly, and Urania shook her head.

'No, it wasn't there last week.' Alastor looked at her.

'I could ask you why you know that so exactly, but I don't think I want to know.' Urania's nose travelled up into the air by a few inches.

'I was keeping an eye on this place. We have heard that there may be strange activities nearby.' Alastor stopped.

'Who is we and why do I _not_ know?'

'We are Clery and I and we haven't told you because we didn't find anything that spoke for the rumours.'

'You did realize that you are instructed that every rumour goes straight to me while Simon is in Alaska, didn't you?' he retorted. 'That wasn't meant as a joke.' Urania glared at him.

'Well, we wanted to tell you about it, and I was going to suggest that your youngsters go here for training.'

'You reckon I bring a novice and a trainee to a place that might be infested with curses of the worst kind?' Alastor shook his head. 'They're good and too young to die.'

'They weren't forced into the office.' Alastor felt his patience waning.

'They would be our youngest losses, and I am not going to be the one who's responsible for that. How far do you go in your anger that I took them instead of you?'

'Some people say you are unorthodox in their training.'

'I know. Because I took Sarah to a raid. Funny, where there's real danger people wonder why I don't bring them, and then they ask me if I'm mad for taking her there.' He gestured at the building. 'You know what, I am not going to discuss that with you. This here is more important.'

'Some people say that your training goes … deeper than Auror training,' said Urania with a wicked grin. Only a second later she realised that she had gone too far. Alastor grabbed her by the upper arm and gave her a look that could pierce solid metal.

'Now you've crossed the line. I'll tell you what _I_ think: You're the one who says that, you and no one else. I advise you to be careful with your decision to spread your lies: There are a lot of people who know me well enough to tell you're lying, and if I get wind you're telling dirty stories about me, I'll have you thrown out of the office. It's not a good idea to mess with me. There's nothing dark enough about me that is true, and what you may invent is too far-fetched even for the Prophet. So keep your mouth shut and don't make me angry.'

'You're always angry.'

'Only in your company,' growled Alastor. 'Never mind that now, let's concentrate on that thing. I figure it hasn't been built by Muggles since it has appeared within a week. Agreed?' She nodded, scowling. They approached carefully, and Alastor wished he were able to see through walls.

'Is it true you are involved with a secret society?' asked Urania.

'Do you think I would tell you if I were?' retorted Alastor.

'They say you and that McGonagall are,' she continued. 'And that Dumbledore is their leader.'

'Sounds great.' He wondered whether she really could be so convinced of herself that she figured he'd tell her, even more after what she had said before. Certainly, he was in the Order of the Phoenix, but he was not going to talk about that. They were on the same side, but this was, as she had said, a secret society, and Urania Gallows had never been one of the few people he trusted. For good reasons, as he had just found out.

'Look!' Urania shouted suddenly. He started slightly, cursing his foolishness. It only happened once every twenty years that he dropped his guard, but each time he could curse himself for it. At least it wasn't that alarming an event he had missed: The lights had gone on in the upper floor of the house, that was all.

'Let's go,' he said darkly. Together they set off towards the building. Urania was making a lot of noise in his opinion. He managed to get them into the house in relative silence, and they headed upstairs after searching the ground floor.

'There you are,' said a voice behind them. Both spun around, facing a young witch whose face was hidden behind a mask.

'_Stupefy_!' yelled Urania, but the witch dodged the ray of light.

'_Avada Kedavra_!' she shouted at Urania, who fell to the ground when a green jet of light hit her.

'_Teneo_!' shouted Alastor, and the witch went to her knees. She rose again, letting out a loud scream. She was wise enough not to try to run, for she would have fallen over. A number of witches and wizards were coming down the stairs now.

'_Crucio_,' said one of them. Alastor felt himself falling down the stairs, unable to control his movements. Only when he started to think he would finally slip into a pleasant faint out of which he might never awake, the pain stopped. He groaned. '_Teneo_, my friend,' sneered the wizard, stomping hard on his right hand. He pointed his wand at the witch and muttered, '_Solvo_.' A foot hit Alastor hard on the temple and the lights went out.

Only a moment later he awoke, and taking his wand into his left hand he crawled back to where Urania had fallen. The others had Disapparated, but not without setting fire to the house. Urania Gallows was unmistakably dead. Alastor swore. She had been difficult, but she had also been good and experienced, and she had taught him a good deal of what he knew now. It was a miracle to Alastor where that witch had come from, they had checked everything. He felt too weak to Apparate, but he had to try. He had to get to Dumbledore, or he was lost. He ignored the furnishings trying to talk to him, knowing that he was imagining it due to the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. He needed help with that quickly. He concentrated with all the power of his mind on the Monastery outside, and made a fast forward movement.

For a moment he thought it had worked. In fact, he had actually Apparated, but the Death Eater's spell held him inside the house. He landed right at the exit. Smoke was filling his nostrils and he heard the roof creaking. This house would not stand much longer. Panic started to rise in his chest, but Alastor fought it down, crawling to the door. He tried to place his hand outside, but he could not move it over the threshold. The panic subsided completely. Alastor leant against the wall, breathing flatly. He could not get out, he would die, and there was nothing he could do about that. He had lost, so what should he panic for? He realized vaguely that everything was becoming shapeless, and that an intense heat filled the house. He closed his eyes, shutting out the confusion of what he was seeing. He felt the fire licking at his robes and his very skin. A horrible noise seemed to be coming from above, but he only perceived it as if it was very far away. Less than a second later he felt a stab of pain in his face that was so violent he lost consciousness.

Ϡ

When Alastor awoke he thought for a moment that he had only dreamt this, but when he tried to open his eyes and realized that only the right one obeyed him, he knew he hadn't. He closed his eye again. 'Alastor, are you with me?' asked a soft voice. Alastor tried to speak but only succeeded in groaning barely audibly. He wanted to go back into that darkness that had only just spat him out, but a hand shook him roughly into reality. 'You must drink this,' said the voice. It was gentle but also commanding. Alastor knew it well enough to recognize it without seeing the speaker. Someone pulled him into a sitting position and forced a tasteless ice-cold fluid down his throat.

'Solutio Salutis,' Alastor whispered.

'Do you know what happened?' Finally, Alastor tried to look again. His vision was slightly blurred, but he still recognized Albus Dumbledore. He nodded. Speaking was harder work than he felt capable of. However, he decided that he wanted to know how he had survived, so he shook his head. Dumbledore looked worried. 'Alastor, are you aware of what is happening?'

'Don't make me speak, please,' he said. He understood that Dumbledore was worried. He knew how he himself felt about people behaving oddly after being under the Cruciatus Curse so he had named that potion only to show he was still himself. His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him. Every inch of his skin hurt, every single nerve in his body was firing. 'How … here?' That wasn't even similar to what he had intended to say, but Dumbledore understood.

'I came just in time,' he said. 'You were trapped.' Alastor frowned.

'Wasn't,' he said. 'Was … Attached.' He felt the slight panic again. Had the Cruciatus done more damage to him than he thought? Reason told him that if it were so, he would barely be able to think clearly, but it was the only answer he had. 'Why … no talk?' he asked roughly, dreading the answer. His mind was creating proper sentences, but his mouth refused to form them.

'You were given a very strong potion that seems to affect you that way as well,' said Dumbledore. 'This will get better in a few minutes. It was the only thing that kept you alive until now.'

'Who?'

'Severus made it.' Alastor frowned, which proved to be a mistake. It hurt horribly. 'I realised that you were Attached, I had to Solve you. You are at Hogwarts now. You will be better soon.' Alastor felt a warm hand touching his forehead. '_Somnia_,' said Dumbledore.

Ϡ

The next time Alastor woke up, he didn't give in to the illusion that he was safely at home. The pain in the left half of his face was too strong, and his left leg was firing somewhere above his knee. A horrible truth struck him, but he decided to refuse to believe in what he knew already, until someone told him. 'Albus?' he asked tentatively.

'Here, my friend.' Alastor looked up at him.

'What happened to me in that house?' he asked. A wave of relief swept over him. His brain was working properly again. 'Damage report and casualties please.' Dumbledore smiled sadly.

'You've lost a leg and an eye, as I know you realised. The house collapsed with you inside it. Urania Gallows has been killed, I think. She must have been farther inside, luckily you were just beside the door or I would not have been able to do anything for you.' Alastor nodded. The world was spinning around him.

'You should have left me there,' he whispered.

'How could I have?' asked Dumbledore compassionately, and Alastor stared at him.

'Don't force me to live,' he said. 'Let me go if I have to. No, I mean it. Don't give me that potion any more. If I go, I go. I won't drink it, and I plead with you not to force-feed me.' Alastor looked at Dumbledore's pained face and saw his friend nodding slowly. He closed his eyes – no: his eye – again and fell asleep.

Suddenly, only a moment later he thought, he was shocked back into consciousness. 'Albus!' he called, loudly. He was astonished how strong his voice was, although it still didn't sound the way it should. He heard a movement beside his bed and looked. 'Do you think that this life is worth living? For me, I mean.'

'I do think so, but I am aware that you might not,' said Dumbledore. 'We usually agree, but I have learnt that in such matters we often don't.' Alastor realized that he was going to pass out again, but he was determined not to. He stretched out his right hand, and Dumbledore took it. He needed to hold on to something that was real and alive.

'It's the other way round normally,' growled Alastor. 'It's always been me clinging to life as if there's no fate worse than death. I think differently now.'

'I have changed my mind neither on the whole matter nor on your fate in particular,' replied Dumbledore conversationally. 'I still do not think that death would be better for you in your present situation. I would swap with you if I could. However, I will not force you to live if there is nothing you rather want than to die. But before you decide that you don't want to go on, I must remind you that once it is too late you cannot change your mind.'

'What good would you have done then by risking your neck to bring me out?' asked Alastor.

'That you had the choice,' said Dumbledore kindly and Alastor frowned.

'D'you know what I really want?' asked Alastor, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. 'A mirror.'

'Alastor, you should …'

'Give me a mirror, Albus, please,' repeated Alastor. 'I want to know who I am going to see every damn morning.' Dumbledore vanished from his sight for a moment, and when he returned he held a small hand mirror before Alastor's face. For a few moments he looked at his reflection, then he turned away in revulsion. The eye patch was clearly the most charming thing about his looks. 'Fine,' he said. 'I reckon I won't win next year's beauty contest, so there's no difference to before.' He looked at Dumbledore again. 'It's absolutely mad, but I'm fool enough to want to live.'

'You are not a fool, Alastor,' said Dumbledore, 'and I will not have you speaking like that about my friends. As for my part, I have expected nothing less of you.' Alastor gave a mirthless laugh.

'I did,' he growled.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later people from the Order came to visit Alastor. Partly he thought he could do with company, partly he felt like telling them to leave him alone. One evening Dumbledore came rather late with a bag in his hand and a funny expression. 'Alastor, I've got something for you,' he said. 'Do you remember James's store of things whose use no one knew?'

'How could I forget?' asked Alastor. 'I haven't seen all of them, and that's good, or I would probably have had to arrest him. But what does that have to do with me?'

'Look,' said Dumbledore. He produced something out of his bag, and Alastor stared for a moment. It was a wooden leg and a staff.

'If you think so,' he said. He shook his head. 'Won't win the marathon either, then … Nothing new, all remaining as it was.'

'There's one more thing,' said Dumbledore. 'I think I was the only one who knew it existed, it still works, I tried it.' He handed Alastor a small red box, which he opened carefully. Alastor looked inside it, then snapped it shut.

'Are you trying to make fun of me?' he asked darkly.

'Nothing is further from my mind, and you should know that,' replied Dumbledore.

'I'm sorry,' said Alastor and meant it. 'What do you mean when you say "It works" and "I tried it"?'

'Simply that I've known this object to function and that I made sure it still does before I brought it here,' replied Dumbledore.

'And how?' asked Alastor, not entirely convinced. 'Do I have to swallow it?'

'That wouldn't be a good idea,' said Dumbledore. 'Place it on your hand.' Alastor opened the box again. Inside it there was something that looked like a large electric blue eye. He took it out of its bed and placed it in the palm of his hand.

He didn't believe it, but he perceived his surroundings as if one of his eyes had somehow ended up near his chest. He closed his fingers around the thing and the enhanced vision faded. 'Sirius and James made this when Alice's left eye was injured and the Healers thought she might lose it.' Alastor laughed wildly. Alice Longbottom had not lost her eye, but only a short time later she had been tortured into insanity by Sirius's cousin.

'And you want me to accept that thing from a traitor,' he said darkly.

'James helped,' said Dumbledore simply. 'It's enough for me to believe there are no jinxes. Anyway, this was designed to be worn.'

'I've misheard that, you didn't say I shall wear that, did you?' asked Alastor. When Dumbledore only raised his eyebrows again, he grinned. 'Well, maybe I'll become next year's Bugbear of the Year,' he said. He removed the eye patch and pressed the electric blue object to the socket below. He expected resistance and pain, but neither came. His wounds had healed so far, but the thing was a lot larger than an eye normally was. He felt it sliding into the socket with an odd slurping sound. For a moment Alastor thought his vision was normal again, but when he looked in the direction of the desk where Dumbledore had placed the hand mirror, he realized it wasn't. His hands dug into the sheets and he didn't move for a few seconds.

'Are you all right?' asked Dumbledore, looking alarmed.

'You have no idea what this thing does, have you?' asked Alastor in a hushed voice. He could move the magical eye independently and focussed it on Dumbledore. 'I can see through you,' he whispered.

'I wouldn't know what you mean,' said Dumbledore, and Alastor shook his head fiercely.

'Literally, man!' he exclaimed. 'I see _through_ you onto the table!' He tried again, this time attempting to see beyond the wall. There was Minerva McGonagall staring into a book without reading, Lupin sitting on the windowsill, Snape scowling at no one in particular as he stood behind Catherine Highpit, who was leaning against him with her eyes closed, and finally her cousin Sarah, sitting on a table and staring into space. They were not in the Order, but Sarah had only finished Auror training and Catherine had been his student for two years. Both looked worried. 'There are Minerva, Remus, the cousins, and Snape,' said Alastor, pointing at the wall. Dumbledore stared at him for a moment.

'Are you telling me you see them there in the next room?' he asked.

'Snape's leaving,' replied Alastor. 'Maybe you'd better … Forget it, you'll never stop trusting him. This man could mean your demise, I tell you that.'

'A good sign that you do, it means you are going back to normal.' Alastor gestured towards the table. 'Let me see,' he said. Dumbledore handed him the mirror again, and this time Alastor was able to bear what he saw. 'Bugbear of the Century, I daresay,' he muttered. His face was grotesquely scarred and would remain so, and the eye didn't exactly add to his beauty. His face had always been asymmetric, but now he wasn't sure if he still looked human. 'What d'you think, can I walk?'

'I think you need rest,' said Dumbledore kindly, but Alastor shook his head.

'This lot think I'm dying, don't they?' Dumbledore remained silent, and Alastor sat up, staring right at him. 'Tell me the truth, will I survive this? Or are you just trying to keep me cheerful through my last three days?'

'You will live,' said Dumbledore. 'If you decide now that you want to die you will have to take the matter into your own hands.'

'Do I look like a man who is likely to commit suicide?' asked Alastor, then he laughed. 'Well, probably I do. You didn't bother telling them that I'll be fine, did you?'

'You didn't bother showing any sign of recovering,' retorted Dumbledore. 'You've never shown self-pity when I was near, but with them around you must have, for they are sure that you are so badly damaged that you won't make it through the night.'

'Time to show them the contrary, then,' said Alastor with determination. 'I think it's time for me to learn to walk.'

Ϡ

It took Alastor far less time to be able to walk properly than he thought in the beginning. After a few weeks he remembered something that had slipped from his mind in all his personal trouble: The note that had gone to Urania Gallows. One afternoon he approached Dumbledore with a look serious enough to let him lay aside his quill at once. 'I've got to tell you something,' said Alastor darkly.

'What is it?' asked Dumbledore.

'That night when … I mean, we received a note that we should go to the Coldingham Monastery, as you know,' he said carefully, and Dumbledore nodded. 'I saw that note. Saw the handwriting. It's unmistakably Mundungus Fletcher's.' Dumbledore stared at him for a moment.

'Alastor, that is impossible,' he said.

'I wouldn't have thought he'd do such a thing either,' replied Alastor, 'but I do know his scrawl.' Dumbledore nodded slowly.

'Wait a minute, he'll be there in a second,' he said and dashed out of the office. Alastor didn't like the thought that someone of their own ranks should have betrayed them yet again, but it was obvious. He didn't have much time to ponder on it, though, because after a short time Dumbledore returned with Fletcher and Snape in his wake.

'I'm alive and I intend to remain so,' said Alastor darkly, glaring at Fletcher. He felt a strange kind of cold fury but he mastered it.

'I hope so, Alastor,' said Fletcher uncertainly, and Alastor laughed. Dumbledore was making tea somewhere at the back of his office and returned with a tray that held four cups.

'Sit down, all of you,' he said. 'Take a cup, there you go.' He placed one of the cups before each of them. 'I'll interpret it as a personal insult if you refuse to take tea from me,' he told Alastor. They drank in silence, and Alastor started to wonder what this was all about. Finally Dumbledore exchanged a small glance with Snape, who gave a curt nod. 'Mundungus, I need to ask you something,' he said then. 'Do you have any idea who might have been in the house the night Alastor here was attacked?' Fletcher shook his head, looking confused. 'Have you sent the Auror department a warning?'

'No, I haven't,' said Fletcher bluntly. 'I've never heard anything about that shack there before I heard what happened to him.' Alastor frowned. Did Dumbledore think he'd admit easily that he had tried to rid the world of one more Auror? Dumbledore looked at Snape.

'Severus, are you sure you …'

'Professor, I do know what I am doing,' he said darkly. Alastor had no doubt about that, but it didn't make Snape more trustworthy. He was a Death Eater, they had proof for that, and Dumbledore trusted him deeply without telling anyone why.

'Good,' said Dumbledore. 'Did you talk with any strangers?'

'Yes, but I have no clue who they were,' replied Fletcher.

'Did they make you write that note?' asked Alastor. Fletcher didn't answer, and Alastor grabbed his left arm. 'Did they force you to send a note to the Ministry?' Fletcher let out an alarming wail.

'Alastor, don't, you'll kill him!' Dumbledore called, and Alastor let go. He glared at Fletcher.

'Imperius coupled with a barrier against Truthfinders,' he growled. The only reasonable answer to this was that Dumbledore had poured Veritaserum in Fletcher's tea. 'Great.' Fletcher gave him a frightened look. 'Sorry,' he grunted. 'Fine, we'll never know then.' He pressed his fingers to his forehead where a terrible headache was building.

'Truthfinder?' asked Fletcher, sounding hurt. 'You give me Veritaserum because this drunk thinks I am after him?' Alastor jumped to his feet, which was a mistake. He could just stop himself falling over and sank back into his chair with a groan. Dumbledore looked worried.

'You think I'm a drunk, do you?' Alastor asked wildly, fighting down the pain in what remained of his left leg. 'You watch out, Fletcher. I've backed you up at the Ministry more than once because you had your fingers where they don't belong. So be careful of whom you accuse to be a drunk. I'd like to see you try and walk with a wooden leg when you're drunken.' Fletcher cringed.

'I didn't mean to offend you,' he said, and Alastor laughed.

'Well, thanks for your flattery, then,' he said. 'Could I have a glass, Albus?' Dumbledore nodded, summoning an empty glass from a shelf. Snape was silent in his seat, watching with mild interest. Somehow Alastor didn't like his seeing members of the Order – he was sure Snape knew of its existence, even if he wasn't in it officially – having a row, but he knew Fletcher well enough to decide not to let him leave the room before he had made himself clear, unless he wanted rumours spreading as fast as a wildfire. He was even more dangerous than Urania Gallows would ever have been, because she had had much more sense. He took the hipflask he carried with him from inside his robes and poured its contents into the glass. It was a dark yellowish fluid. Alastor shoved it into Fletcher's hand. 'Drink,' he commanded. 'Come on, I'm hardly poisoning myself, drink.' Fletcher sipped a drop of it and went green in the face. 'Expected this to be whiskey, did you?' asked Alastor, and Fletcher nodded. 'Don't mistake me for yourself.'

'That's damn bitter, what is it?' asked Fletcher and Alastor grinned. He placed it before Snape.

'What is it?' Alastor asked him. 'You're supposed to know that, aren't you?' Snape looked at him without answering. 'Is that man too arrogant to talk to anyone else but you?' Alastor asked Dumbledore.

'He is not,' replied Snape. 'He is wondering whether it is at all possible to overdose this.' He took the glass and sniffed. 'But I think it's thin enough not to do any harm.'

'What is it? D'you know?' Snape nodded. Fletcher looked uncomfortable and Dumbledore smiled.

'It's water with a bit of Dittany, which makes Veritaserum useless, and I think you may have ground a bezoar into it as well,' said Snape finally. Alastor gave Fletcher a truly frightening leer.

'I tell you this only once,' he said. 'Accuse me of anything and you will get into Azkaban faster than you can say thief.' He looked at Dumbledore. 'Thanks for your patience. Didn't help much, but it was an attempt.' He stared at Snape for a moment. 'Thank you for your assistance,' he said. 'You know I do not trust you, and I know you do not mind. Keep your head down and you're in no trouble.'

'This will do, Alastor,' said Dumbledore kindly but with determination. 'You need rest, you haven't recovered yet.'

'And I never will,' said Alastor gloomily, allowing himself to be steered out of Dumbledore's office.


End file.
